for some reason every few minutes/hours there is a strange attack/infestation of poisonous snakes near where we're camping, and dozens of eagles or other large birds come down to attack them. i keep forgetting the shotgun we've brought and have to float/drag myself back to camp to get it. for some reason i feel like it's my fault that the snakes are returning and i'm putting someone or something (dog? birds?) in danger. by the time i get back to the snakes the birds have pretty much finished with them. we decide that they wouldn't be a very good thing to eat (being poisonous and all), and then ponder the water mocassin scene in lonesome dove.

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brad, will and i are wandering around ashland in the middle of the night trying to amuse ourselves. i end up walking on a paved path past some almost-snazzy apartments (brad and will aren't with me at the moment) and run down a really steep part onto the street. somebody sees me and asks if i'm okay (i guess the path was really steep)--i say i'm fine and leave quickly.

we wander across the street where brad seems to be staggering around off the side of the road in a bunch of dead leaves near some drain thingies. he manages to fall over a few times and make quite a bit of noise (which i get pretty paranoid aboud) and then finds a supersoaker in a ditch thing. we grab it and walk across the street into this field, where will and brad start quoting lines from comedy routines i recognize from speech and debate in high school. they start getting really loud (and i get more paranoid) and some old guy walks out to us on the field telling us to be quiet--it's the middle of the night.

next i remember him (the old guy) lighting a small blow-torch from one of the many kerosene camping-type containers he has, but then he packs it back onto his enourmous backpack along with a couple huge water containers and a big green bag army-color bag. he leaves, i guess. later i remember somebody is hurt and we're doing surgery as it gets light and people drive by through the field on their way to their houses (they seem only marginally interested.. i don't want to attract attention).

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leslie has hurt her knee, but doesn't want to go to the hospital. i ask the doctor (tim?) who is with us at the time if he'll fix it. i can't find my checkbook to pay him, though.. i only find the check i wrote a little earlier for the surgery he did on me (?). he says he'll do it anyhow, though, since he's such a nice guy. i go to work unscrewing the four screws in her knee (we appear to just have her leg.. leslie isn't there). they are very tight, though, and i start to strip some of the screw heads getting them out. eventually i finish, though, and tim gets to work.